


Anatomy of Addiction

by boonies



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thing Jaejoong can't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anatomy of Addiction

*

 

Jaejoong doesn't do it on purpose.

 

He doesn't move the piano next to the window _because_ it creates a horrible draft. He's not insane.

 

He just... likes what Yoochun sounds like when he has a cold.

 

Yoochun's voice, even on a normal day, is like hot chocolate, and Jaejoong's been on a strict diet his whole life.

 

He can't have hot chocolate.

 

So when Yoochun drops by to hang out and sleep and play a hundred unfinished brilliant depressing songs, Jaejoong sort of scoots him down the bench, near the open window.

 

"Shit," Yoochun sneezes, giving the window a bleary glance, fingers pausing over the keys.

 

His voice already sounds heavy with fatigue.

 

Jaejoong squirms next to him.

 

"Can't you buy some sort of, I don't know," Yoochun whines, banging out a random melody, "weather-proofing thing? Fuck." He sneezes again and Jaejoong feels a little guilty.

 

"We can go to the studio," he offers awkwardly. "If you want."

 

"Whatever," Yoochun replies, cranky. "I'll just get an asthma attack and die."

 

Startled, Jaejoong snaps his head around to stare, hand instinctively touching Yoochun's. "Don't."

 

One corner of Yoochun's lips quirks up, but he nods his chin at the piano with a grunt. "Sing this part for me."

 

Jaejoong glances at the coffee-stained napkin. "You rhymed tease with disease."

 

"It's a work in progress," Yoochun says, doing something weird with his eyebrows. And nose. And lips. And general face.

 

"Just the melody is fine," he adds, and Jaejoong hums a couple of bars, pursing his lips appreciatively.

 

"It sounds like Adele had a baby with Psy," he tells Yoochun.

 

Yoochun stares, mouth open. Then he tears the napkin into a billion tiny pieces. "Okay, no, next."

 

The second bit of melody is written on the back part of a box of condoms, in a font so small Jaejoong has to squint. "Why is it empty?"

 

Blinking, Yoochun meets his eyes, pen dangling between his lips. "The song?"

 

"The box of condoms."

 

Yoochun laughs, voice deepening. "Because out-of-wedlock babies aren't happening."

 

Jaejoong wants to go out and buy four gallons of hot chocolate.

 

"So, you're seeing someone."

 

With a shrug, Yoochun nods his chin at the notes scribbled messily across a take-out menu. "Sing this for me."

 

"Is she an actress?"

 

"Why the hell did I rhyme lips with chips?" Yoochun wrinkles his nose. "Maybe I was hungry. But I mean, clearly I was ordering take-out, so what the fuck."

 

Jaejoong frowns. "Do I know her? Have I met her? Is it serious?"

 

"This should be in E-flat," Yoochun sighs, scratching at the menu with his pen.

 

"Yah!" Jaejoong snaps.

 

Yoochun spares him a glance. "No."

 

"Which question are you answering?"

 

"All three."

 

Slowly, Jaejoong brings his fingers to the keys, hovering over Yoochun's. "You'd tell me if it were serious, right."

 

Yoochun's fingers still beneath his. "Of course I'd tell you." His other hand slides to the bench, grabbing scrap paper. "You and Junsu. I'd tell you both right away."

 

"Me," Jaejoong says, voice rough. "You have to tell me first. When it happens."

 

" _If_ it happens," Yoochun shrugs, not looking at him. "It's not gonna happen."

 

The breeze picks up, ruffling their bangs.

 

The next piece of Yoochun's song is written in crayon. Another one in eyeliner. Jaejoong knows what usually comes next.

 

"Roll up your sleeves," he says.

 

Yoochun shivers. "Nah."

 

So Jaejoong rolls up the sleeves for him, left arm first.

 

"You ran out of space," he says, skimming his fingers over the smudges on Yoochun's skin.

 

"More like I didn't wanna lose this particular part," Yoochun says warmly.

 

He plays a few chords, undeterred by Jaejoong's fingers wrapping around his left wrist.

 

It's these kinds of lyrics, the kind that Yoochun hides on his body, that give Jaejoong pause.

 

And hope.

 

He's not going to break his diet. He's not insane.

 

But he takes the pen and grabs Yoochun's shirt collar and drags it down. He aims high up on Yoochun's chest, above the tattoo, and copies the remnants of a confession.

 

He writes it, as legibly as he can, where his name is permanently inked, where no other name should ever be added, pen cap pressed between his teeth.

 

Yoochun doesn't look at him once.

 

"Now you can't lose it," Jaejoong says, letting the shirt cover it back up. "For a couple days, at least."

 

"Thanks," Yoochun says and his voice is perfectly rough and sniffly.

 

Jaejoong smiles with affection. "Let me close the window." He rises but Yoochun pulls him down immediately.

 

"Leave it," he says. "It's always too hot in your apartment."

 

His voice wraps around Jaejoong like a warm blanket, so Jaejoong sits back down and smiles.

 

"Want me to sing this part?"

 

Yoochun smiles at the piano. "Desperately."

 

Strict diet or not, Jaejoong can cheat a little. Sip his hot chocolate so slowly it doesn't register; nurse it until it's a healthy, acceptable choice.

 

He raises an eyebrow at the discarded box of condoms. "Why does that say magnum?"

 

Yoochun laughs the way he only does when he's in this stupid drafty room, at this stupid old piano, on this stupid wobbly bench, and says, voice deep and gruff and perfect, "Maybe I should show you."


End file.
